


In a closet

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Humor, M/M, Piercings, Smut, crossover tsa america: level orange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He patted down around the ankles and moved his hands up Dean’s legs, sliding, patting, using the backs of his hands on the insides of Dean’s thighs and Dean didn’t even have to widen his stance cause there was plenty of room in between his bow legs for whatever Cas wanted…..<br/>Oh god he was touching Dean’s crotch and there was no hiding how thick he was getting. Cas was still kneeling, lightly brushing the back of his hand over Dean. He frowned, tipped his head to the side, pressed his hand there a little harder.<br/>Dean was about to suggest just dropping his pants when Cas stood and asked, “Sir, I feel something foreign and hard in your pants.”<br/>“Oh there’s something hard in there all right.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a closet

Goddamit Dean hated flying. 

He was so nervous about his certain and imminent doom that he was making an ass of himself trying to flirt with a chick in the line to the metal detectors. And yes, he was ‘trying’ to flirt. Because he was just running his mouth about the most asinine things and he just couldn’t seem to make it close. It was like he actually thought if he talked about anything but the dangers of flying he might forget it for a minute.

He didn’t.

Every step he took closer to the metal detector was a step closer to the plane. He could hear the instructions being droned over and over again by bored employees - ‘shoes, belts, empty your pockets, shoes, belts, empty your pockets’ - but he could barely understand the actual words. 

Dean nearly fell over taking off his boots. He forgot the belt. When he went through the metal detector it beeped angrily at him, and the black woman in charge of the line glared at him even more angrily. Dean retreated back through the metal detector and remembered to empty his pockets.

The metal detector still beeped at him. 

He tried taking off his leather jacket, it had zippers and a few snaps, that was probably it. 

Nope. 

After the third failed try the woman shoed him to the side and shouted “Male assist!”

Everyone was staring at him. Dean knew it. He was probably forgetting something metal on him subconsciously because he really really did not want to get on that plane. 

If his heart palpitations and shortness of breath from nerves wasn’t so bad his breath might stutter when a stern guy with bright blue eyes and a strong jaw came over to him with one of those wand thingies. 

“Feet on the mat, hold your arms up to the side.”

Dean nodded dumbly, putting his feet over the yellow outlines on the mat. Jesus that voice. If he could concentrate on the deep rasp of that voice and the squinty glare being thrown his way he could maybe, maybe ignore his imminent demise via flying death trap for just a few minutes. 

The guy - Castiel, his name badge said, what the hell kind of name is that - moved around Dean waving the little wand, which beeped over his chest and over his crotch. What the hell. Castiel sighed and set the wand down on a chair nearby, coming back over to Dean. 

He held out his - broad, long fingered - hands. “I’m going to pat you down, I’ll use the back of my hands over the more sensitive areas.”

As soon as his hands got near Dean, he jumped.

“Whoa, hey whoa.”

“Sir, I need to pat you down before you can proceed to your gate.”

“Hey, aren’t you gonna at least by me a drink first?”

Goddamit.

Dean really hated himself right then. He said stupid shit when he was nervous. Okay, he said stupid shit a lot, but he usually could get away with a lot with just a grin and a wink, riding on his charm and good looks. It wouldn’t be very effective if he was sweating through his shirt and shuffling suspiciously around with how nervous he was about flying though. But seriously man, he was already mortified, he did not need to pop a boner in front of everyone. And that was going to happen if this Castiel dude started feeling him up. 

He was doing that squinting thing again. He huffed and rolled his eyes, turning away and yelling, “Private patdown!” as he gestured Dean towards a room off to the side of the lines.

Dean was ushered in first, walking in to the small cinder block walled room with the one way mirror on one side, two uncomfortable plastic chairs in the middle, and a desk against one wall. The lights were too bright and harsh, the drone of some safety procedure instructions playing over the speakers. Dean shuffled in to the middle of the room, waiting for Castiel, who took a few minutes to make his way in. 

The lights were turned off, then on again but dimmer and gentler. 

“Is that better?”

His voice had softened a little and Dean was kind of freaked out. He sat down on one of the chairs. 

“Uh. Yeah. That’s. That’s good.”

Castiel made his way over to the little desk and opened up a small cupboard. 

“Are you a nervous flyer? I don’t think you’re trying to pull anything malicious, you just, seem on edge.”

Dean coughed and shrugged, brushing it off.”Yeah I mean, maybe a little bit of a nervous flyer, but it’s just self preservation you know. I mean, it’s a flying death trap man, hurtling a big ass tin can like that up through the air, it’s just not natural.”

“Yes, I can see your point. Are you a whiskey man? Neat?”

“What - uh - sure.”

Dean hadn’t really noticed what the guy was shuffling around in that cupboard, he was too busy staring at the tight firm shift of his ass under those polyester pants. Castiel turned and passed him a little plastic cup and Dean could smell the whiskey. Huh, he didn’t think the guy would actually ‘buy him a drink’. Were they actually supposed to do this? Dean didn’t care, his nerves were too frayed that he’d take anything to relax. He tipped back the glass like a shot and finished it. 

“So where are you flying out to?”

“Uh, California, my brother is getting married, oh man, he’s only twenty two and he’s already found himself a girl. He got into Stanford’s law program too man, gonna be a big shot lawyer with a wife, bet he’ll have a picket fence and a dog and two and a half kids too.”

Dean was rambling. He really hated himself a little bit. 

“Hm. California is pretty far to drive.”

“Oh I’d drive, I’d love to drive, but I couldn’t get enough time off work to actually make the trip though so I’m stuck flying over.”

“I see, that’s unfortunate.”

Castiel had moved behind him, and Dean tensed when he felt hands on his shoulders.

“Just relax.”

Dean could hear the crinkle of his gloves, feel the warmth of his hands through the layers of his shirts. Pat down. Right. That’s what they were doing. Definitely. 

“Yeah, man I couldn’t be prouder of my baby brother, he’s really got his shit together, gonna make something of himself. I’m just a fucking mechanic man, and I haven’t had a relationship last longer than a month since, well ever, but Sammy, Sammy knows what he’s doing. I bet our ma would be real proud if she was around, he’s gonna have the cutest snot nosed little babies with his girl Jess.”

“Your mother’s not around?”

Strong hands dipped up under his arms and Dean went with the motion, standing. He was feeling a little loose limbed, and he figured his nerves didn’t do him any favors with taking that whiskey on an empty stomach. He hadn’t eaten all day, knowing it would just come up the moment the plane started moving. But he was starting to feel a little better.

“No she’s, uh, she died when we were real young, our dad raised us. I mean, if you could call what he did raising kids, more like I raised Sammy. Man am I proud of him.”

“I’m sure you did a great job. That must have been hard.”

“Yeah it uh - “ Dean swallowed thickly, he wasn’t too sure what was going on. What was it called, verbal diarrhea, when you got too nervous and couldn’t shut the fuck up. Castiel was so close though, standing in front of him, hands moving over his arms and up his sides, those plush fucking lips barely parted and his head tipped a bit to the side, blue eyes wide with concern and sincerity. 

“It was pretty rough, but you know, we made it through, it’s good now.”

“Is it? Good now?”

“I uh -“

Castiel reached his belt, shit he still had forgotten to take that off.

“I’m going to unbuckle your belt and put two fingers in the waste of your pants.”

“Hey, you could put more than that in my pants.”

Fucking, shut up Dean.

Cas was just doing that squinting thing again. Cas. Yeah. That was better. 

Too much blood was rushing south and Dean was not as thoroughly mortified as he would have been doing this in front of an audience but he was still a little worried this guy might think he was a creeper. But then again, was it really necessary for Cas to be standing so close, close enough Dean could feel his warm breath and if he just leaned forward an inch they’d be kissing, making out, slamming each other up against the walls. 

Cas kneeled in front of him. 

Yeah, Dean had a boner. 

He patted down around the ankles and moved his hands up Dean’s legs, sliding, patting, using the backs of his hands on the insides of Dean’s thighs and Dean didn’t even have to widen his stance cause there was plenty of room in between his bow legs for whatever Cas wanted…..

Oh god he was touching Dean’s crotch and there was no hiding how thick he was getting. Cas was still kneeling, lightly brushing the back of his hand over Dean. He frowned, tipped his head to the side, pressed his hand there a little harder. 

Dean was about to suggest just dropping his pants when Cas stood and asked, “Sir, I feel something foreign and hard in your pants.”

“Oh there’s something hard in there all right.”

Cas glared at him. 

Oh shit.

Shit, fuck, he was so stupid. 

Before he could say anything, Cas was unzipping his pants and sticking a gloved hand down there. 

“Oh. You’re pierced?”

Dean might have squeaked a little. 

“Yeah. Fuck. I forgot, oh god I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. A prince albert, if I’m not mistaken?”

“What? Oh, oh yeah, that’s what I’ve got.”

“Do you have any other piercings?”

Cas’ hand slid further down his cock, feeling the underside, cupping his balls. The rough friction of his dry gloved hand should not make Dean even harder, but his dick was not interested in listening to reason. 

“No - ah - not there, just, oh my nipples.”

Cas hummed and pulled his hand slowly, seriously fucking slowly and jesus christ did he just flick Dean’s piercing on the way up. Using the front of his hands - wasn’t he supposed to use the back on sensitive areas - he patted up Dean’s stomach and his chest, pausing over his nipples. He pressed, hard, and rubbed his palms a little. Dean’s hips jerked forward, bumping against Cas because they were standing so fucking close together. 

Dean was tipping forward, an inch away from pressing his lips up against Cas, the man’s hands sliding down his chest, fingers dragging over the piercings through his nipples. 

“All Clear!”

Cas stepped back abruptly, the lights turning back on to bright. 

Dean was left swaying, pants open, cock dampening his boxers with pre come, as the door clicked open and Cas was gone. 

-

The flight sucked thoroughly and Dean was tempted to say ‘fuck you’ to work, rent a car, and take his time driving home. 

He was still nauseous a day after his flight during the wedding. It died down a little, standing next to his baby brother listening to the vows. Dean may have cried a little. Okay, he blubbered like a fucking baby, but everyone else was crying too. They had a real classy outdoor wedding and Jess was fucking radiant. 

It was great to catch up with his brother, and his wife. Jesus. Sam was fucking married. 

The weekend passed too quick, and Dean found himself stuck in line at the airport again working himself into a nervous frenzy. He remembered to take off his boots, empty his pockets, shrug out of his jack, and remove his belt before going through the metal detector. Of course it still beeped. He told the employee that he had piercings when the wand passed over his chest and crotch, and he was waved through as okay, no embarrassing private pat downs needed. 

When he touched down again, Dean realized how hungry he was after his breathing got back to normal. Yeah, he hadn’t eaten all day again. He headed towards the food court immediately for a Cinnabon.

There was a familiar head of rumpled dark hair and blue eyes sitting in the corner eating a fucking Cinnabon with a knife and fork. Fucking seriously. Yeah Dean should just walk past, go somewhere else to eat, or just pick a different table because honestly Cas probably did not even recognize him, he probably did hundreds of pat downs in a day. 

Dean bought his sugary sticky bun of heaven and sat himself down in the chair opposite Cas. 

Cas looked up at him, a drizzle of frosting in the corner of his mouth looking like something else with his lips parted. 

Dean winked at him. 

“Come here often?”

“I work here.”

His tongue darted out to lick up the frosting in the corner of his mouth. 

“I know that, it was - uh, a really bad joke.”

“Oh. Not a pick up line then?”

Dean forgot about his Cinnabon.

“Yeah no that too, definitely that too.”

Half an hour later, and he was being pushed into a fucking janitorial closet, Cas pressed up against his back and kicking the door shut behind them. Strong hands on his hips turned him around, slammed him up against the door as Cas ground against him. Dean may have masturbated to pretty much this exact fantasy at least three times already that weekend.

He muffled something unintelligible against the press of Cas’ lips, hands tugging his belt open. A foot kicked between his and nudged his legs apart. Dean leaned back against the door, pulling Cas into the space between his crooked legs, lifting one to rub against his thigh and hook around his waist, rocking their bodies together. Cas kissed dirty and open mouthed, hands roaming up under his shirt, hips setting a rhythm bumping up against him. His hands were cold, making Dean shudder as they skimmed up his chest, nimble fingers finding his nipple piercings and tugging. 

Dean groaned, eyes squeezing shut as he knocked his head back against the door. Cas moved his mouth down to Dean’s neck, licking and sucking as his fingers tugged harder, harder, on the nipple rings. Tangling his fingers in Cas’ soft hair, Dean tugged him back, Cas’ mouth slack and his eyes glazed over. Dean licked his lips, there was something he was going to say, wanted to get on his knees and suck Cas off or maybe spin around and have Cas rut between his legs he wasn’t too sure but god he just fucking wanted right now, something, anything, more than dry humping. 

Fingers still against his chest, palms spread, hands sliding down to Dean’s hips and Cas shoved. Leg dropping back down to the floor, Dean swayed, Cas dipping down as he lifted Dean’s shirt to press his mouth hot and wet to the skin of his stomach and lower. Belt clinking and the rustle of denim, Dean’s pants were around his knees and Cas’ hand was holding his cock. Shit he looked good down there, blue eyes blinking up at Dean as he licked his lips. 

Biting his lip as Cas started flicking his tongue against his piercing, Dean may have whimpered. May have. Whatever sound it was he made, Cas was smirking at him, catching the piercing between his teeth and tugging gently. Oh god, despite how many times Dean had masturbated that weekend he was having serious doubts about his stamina. Cas closed his lips around the tip of his cock, tongue massaging against the piercing, and started to suck. 

Dean pushed a hand through Cas’ hair, blunt nails dragging over his scalp, his free hand moving up under his shirt to keep playing with his nipple piercings. Cas pulled off his cock, hand still squeezing the base. “You can pull my hair, I like it, and once I take my hand off the base of your cock please, feel free to fuck my mouth.” 

Fucking Christ, even if he was on his knees Dean knew Cas was in control, and honestly all he could think of was the guy giving him orders during his pat down and the detached efficient way he talked really shouldn’t be as hot as it was. Dean just sucked his lip and nodded, fingers gripping tighter into Cas’ hair. 

Cas went back to twisting his piercing around and sucking, hand working the shaft, and Dean kept still as he eased in to it. He may have been babbling but the stream of ‘Cas, Cas, fuck, yeah baby come on you can take more, so good, come on baby, fuck’ was just kind of an automatic reaction. The closet was stuffy and hot, the sound of Cas wet sucking obscene in the small space. He worked his mouth down on Dean’s cock to where his hand was, drooling down his chin and Dean caught his other hand sneaking down into his pants, jerking himself off. 

Dean wanted to tell him to hold off, that he wanted to take care of Cas, but then the guy was moving his hand to brace against Dean’s thigh and taking his cock down to the base. 

Hips stuttering, Dean pushed his hand through the messy hair to cup the back of Cas’ head, and started rocking his hips forward shallowly. Cas bobbed with the motion, angling his head a little and Dean could feel himself bumping against the back of his throat, sliding into the tight fluttering clench. Cursing and moving both hands to cradle Cas’ head, Dean fucked into his mouth and Cas went slack, jaw stretched and eyes fluttering, his arm jacking his cock working furiously as Dean sunk into his mouth, into his throat, pulling Cas against him and coming with a scream. 

Cas groaned around him, tensed up and went still, slouched in Dean’s hold and started pulling back. Dean’s hands slid out of his hair, fingers dragging through the spit on his cheeks. Leaning back against the door, panting, cock softening against the open front of his jeans, Dean watched Cas standing and wiping down the front of his pants with a rag before zipping up again. 

Cas looked at his watch, looked at Dean slumped and incoherent against the door, looked down at Dean’s exposed dick, looked at his watch again. 

“I need to get back to work.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah I, uh….. can I give you my number?”

Dean could feel his cheeks flushing and he was glad the closet was dimly lit as he fumbled with his belt. Cas squinted at him, what was with the fucking squinting. 

“Sure.”

Dean fished a pen and scrap of an old receipt out of his pocket and scribbled his name down, not actually giving a shit if he was coming across a little needy because there were so many more things that he wanted to do to this guy. Cas took the paper, folded it and put it in his pocket, then fucking winked at Dean as he opened the door. 

“Hey, maybe next time I’ll show you my tattoos.” 

 


End file.
